


A lonely house

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dad is a nervous goof, Dad is named James in this fic, Loneliness, M/M, Mentions of Death, Smut will probably happen in the future if I decide to continue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad Egbert lives alone in his house that has suddenly become much too lonely and empty for him. Deciding to get his old tv fixed, he gives his son a call. John takes the opportunity to send Bro Strider to his house, hoping for the two to become friends. Dad, being a bit of a shut-in, is very nervous about the whole situation..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An old unfinished fic that I've decided to upload. Might continue it if it gets positive feedback! Anyways, enjoy.

Your house. 

A quiet house. 

A house which was once filled with children's laughter and music, but no longer is. 

A.. Lonely house. 

It only gets bigger and bigger each time you look around. It's too big for a man like yourself. It used to be just the right size though. You sometimes wonder what could've happened to it. 

Your son, your wife and yourself had such a nice home together. Now it's just you and the dull buzz of your old refrigerator. The refrigerator that stands tall in the kitchen, your favourite room in the house. It's not that you love to eat or anything. You just enjoy baking and cooking. It often helps you get your mind off of things. Like how the livingroom is so quiet nowadays. You remember the times when you could always hear a movie playing on the tv, mixed with the giggles of your son who was usually sprawled out on the couch. That tv sure had a good run, though it's broken now. John insists that you get it repaired or buy a new one every time he comes to visit you, but you never get around to doing so. You never watched much tv anyways.You've got a radio and an old computer to keep you busy, and that's usually enough. Though you can't help but give the tv a few longing glances now and then. The internet connection is slow and the radio often plays static, so maybe.. Just maybe you should..

Your house. 

A lonely and empty house. 

You've always liked a little peace, yes, but sometimes it's just too much. Furniture can only keep a person company for so long. What you're doing is unhealthy, or so your son keeps telling you. You too often sit by yourself with your thoughts. Your thoughts and memories of a happy home filled with joy. A home which has had it's ups and down, of course. Maybe.. Quite a few downs. There is especially one down that haunts your mind, day and night. The day your love slipped away. Your beautiful wife, taken away much too soon. Traffic can be so cruel. 

John was so young then. You remember having to explain why his mother wasn't coming home again. You couldn't stop yourself from crying and choking on your words. It was difficult, but somehow the two of you managed to get through it together. You raised John by yourself and that was just fine. 

You were fine. 

And you still are, despite what John tells you.

You don't need a new wife. 

You don't want one.

You're fine.

Fine.

Just fine.

Yes, you are aware that these are quite childish thoughts. You are a grown man. A rather proper man if you'd say so yourself. But just once, you will allow yourself to be stubborn. Your name is James Egbert and you are quite alright by yourself in your big, quiet.. Lonely.. House. 

..Maybe you should get a new tv.

\---

Since you've been a bit low on cash lately, you decide against buying a new tv. Fixing the old one couldn't be that difficult, could it? Probably just a few wires here and there that needs replacing. That is what you thought until you opened the thing up.

"..What?"

You scratch at the back of your head with a puzzled expression as you stare at the inside of your tv. Okay, you admit, you've never been much of a handy man and you really don't know anything about electronics. This was a pretty stupid idea, you quickly realize.

The pipe hanging from your lips bounces a bit up and down as you lightly chew on it in thought. You know that smoking indoors is a bad thing but you live by yourself and rarely get visitors, so really, who gives a damn? You sure don't.

"Maybe I should get someone else to repair it," you mumble. Speaking to yourself now and then has become yet another bad habit of yours. But again, you live alone so there's nobody there to hear or complain.

The computer sits at it's usual place on your desk in the study. It has internet explorer and drives you insane, so you usually tend to avoid using it. You've been told on multiple occasions that you are a very old fashioned man, though you refuse to believe that. You are plenty hip and cool and all that. Yes, you are.

You sit in your chair and turn on the devil's machine as you puff at your pipe. It takes a while for it to start up so you read a few pages in the book that John gave you for your birthday. You don't find it particularly interesting, but you promised your son that you'd read it, and so you shall.

After a bit, you realize that you've become much too distracted by the book and the computer was staring at you in expectation. What were you doing again? Oh, right. The tv. You click the web browser icon and watch as internet explorer appears on your screen. The only thing you really do on the internet is use google, so naturally it is your start page (John explained how to switch start pages to you, but you got a bit lost in his words. You really are no good with computers).

"Television fixer," you say as you type it into the search bar (Slowly. There are a lot of keys and it's hard to find which ones to press. How does John type so quickly?) before clicking search. And now you must wait.. A while..  
You frown at the slow computer and eye the WiFi router thingy which stands in the corner of the room, flashing at you smugly. It definitely wasn't worth the money.

With a sigh, you pick up you book again and squint at the ink on the paper (John insists that you get glasses, but you can see just fine. You're not old. Just forty. Forty isn't old. Right? Either way your eyes are fine!).

You read for a while and make sure to glance at the computer screen now and then as you wait for the page to load. Time passes quickly. Half an hour.. An hour.. Yeah, it's not going to work, is it? Nothing works in this house besides the things in your kitchen. Sigh. You better find another solution..


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad?" A familiar voice seeps through the phone and you can't help but smile.

"Hello son. I am calling because I'd like to speak with you about our old television. You know, the broken one?"

Since the computer had failed you yet again, you decided to call your son for advice. He always seemed to have a solution for these sort of things. Such a clever boy. You are so proud of him.

"Yeah! Are you finally getting it fixed?" John asks and you lean back in your chair as you tap your pipe against the ashtray on the desk.

"Yes, I thought it was about time. Though I am not so sure about who to call to get it repaired. I tried using that googleplex page-" "It's google, dad." "Yes, yes. Well, you know how much my computer dislikes me, so naturally nothing works." 

You pause to light up your pipe again. 

"Do you know where I can get the old thing fixed up? I'd rather not get a new one of it can be repaired." 

"Um, yeah! You remember my best bro, Dave? Well his brother is really good at fixing shi- ehm, stuff! I'll give Dave a call and ask when the guy's free," John said, almost excitedly. 

"That is very kind of you, John. How much do you suppose the man charges to get the job done?" 

"Well Dave says the guy's practically a millionaire so he probably won't charge that much. Hey, I bet you'll like him! Maybe you two can become friends and all that jazz. You really need to socialize more, dad," he tells you and you blink a bit in surprise. 

"Hey, hold on now-" you begin, but your son cuts you off as he often tends to do. 

"I'll give him your address and he can come over as soon as possible! That okay? I know you're always free so don't even think about making excuses, dad! Oh, hey, I gotta go now. Bye!" Click. There he goes. Oh dear.

You lower your phone from your ear to stare down at it as your pipe hangs from your lips, dangerously close to falling. Knowing John, he has probably already invited Mr. Strider over by now. That boy sure is a quick one. Perhaps a tad too quick.

You haven't had strangers in your home in quite a while now.

Oh dear.

\---

After the phone call with your son, you have not been able to find peace. It's been such a long time since you've had the company of strangers and you're beginning to understand why John keeps telling you that you need to get out more. You're becoming one of those shut-ins. Society makes you nervous, for crying out loud. This definitely isn't a good thing. Perhaps meeting mr. Strider is a good idea. Sort of like.. The first step to becoming the man you once were! But, what if you mess up? What kind of man is mr. Strider anyways? Oh no. This will not do..

Quickly, you get to work. The man could come any minute during any day, so you decide to act right away. The house must be cleaned, floor to ceiling! No corner must be left untouched. You're not taking any chances. Your current number one goal is to be accepted by David's brother whom your son has put his trust in. The man may only come to fix the television, but he will feel welcome while doing so. And you shall appear like the perfect upstanding citizen which you truly are. (No, you do not believe you are over doing this. No chance!) You roll up your sleeves and grab a broom. Time to show what this man is capable of.


	3. Chapter 3

Two days has passed and you've barely caught a wink of sleep. This should not be as nervewrecking as it is. It's absurd and embarrassing. If your wife had seen you like this.. 

"Maybe I should wash the car too," you mumble around your pipe as you stand in the doorway of your house with today's newspaper in hand.   
It's early in the morning and you haven't gotten around to eating breakfast or getting dressed yet, but it's never too early to smoke in your opinion.

You sigh as you're about to turn around and go inside, but a car catches your attention. A rusty old Cadillac.. Heading for your house? Hang on a second!

The car pulls up to your driveway as your pipe falls from your lips and hits the doorstep. Mr. Strider is here and you're standing in pyjamas with an awful bedhead! You haven't even shaved yet. Oh no, no, no. This will not do.

Before mr. Strider even gets to park his car, you race back inside and slam the door shut before running upstairs to get dressed. Your heart races as you think to yourself. Oh no, no, no. This absolutely, positively, will not do! You aren't ready at all!

As quick as you can manage, you jump into your slacks and pull on a shirt before you hear the sound of your doorbell. No, no, no. A tie, socks, and a fedora is all you get to grab before the doorbell rings a second time. "Coming!" you shout as you grab a comb and run it though your hair a few times before running back down the staircase. You stumble a bit and nearly take a tumble, but you luckily manage to catch yourself and you make it to the front door, safe and sound.

You take a moment to calm yourself before you reach out to grab the doorknob, but it turns before you get the chance to and the door suddenly swings open to your surprise. 

Your heart stops and you carefully look up at the tall man standing there. 

Black jeans, a white polo, leather gloves and a grey baseball cap is what you're greeted with, along with a pair of ridiculous looking shades. There's spiky blond hair jutting out from under his cap, followed by a pair of neatly trimmed sideburns. His nose and cheeks are lightly dusted with freckles and you can definitely see the resemblance between this man and John's old friend, David. He's broad and appears to have a decent set of muscles on him, along with a few scars decorating the uncovered parts of his arms. He looks to be of the rough type, though he also seems like the cool and slick sorts judging by his attire and calm facial expression.

His lip curls slightly into a small smirk and you blink as you realize that you're staring at him with your mouth open. Quickly, you shut it and straighten yourself up. He's not the type of man you expected to see, but you will still be as polite as you can manage, even if the guy did just open the door before you got the chance to.

"A-ah, you must be Mr. Strider!" you say with a smile and hold out your hand for a shake. Instead of the man's hand, you're greeted with a pipe. Your pipe. 

"You dropped this," he says as he hands it to you and you blink a bit at his deep, calm voice. It sends a faint shiver down your spine and you curl your fingers to grip the pipe he had placed in your hand. You try to say something, you think, but your mouth just sort of opens and closes like a fish's as the man raises an eyebrow. 

"You alright?" he asks and you quickly step aside and gesture for him to come inside. 

"I-I'm fine! Please do come inside Mr. Strider," you say, a bit faster than you intended to. 

He smirks again before he takes your offer and moves inside. You feel something brush up against your thigh and you jolt a little, unsure if it was the wind coming from outside that you just felt, or if it was actually the man's hand bumping into you. Or maybe it was only your imagination. But if it was his hand, it was probably entirely accidental. These things just happen. Do not be alarmed.

"It's Bro," he suddenly says and your eyes snap up to his face instead of where they had been resting on one of Bro's gloved hands. You realize that the door is open and you move to close it as you reply. "Oh, my apologies. My name is-" "James. I know," he rudely interrupts you and you hold your breath a little as the door clicks shut. Of course. John probably told him your name already. 

"Um, the television is in the livingroom," you manage to get out and watch as he moves further into the house without removing his shoes. You have a feeling that cleaning the house probably wasn't very necessary. 

Bro easily finds your TV and you think you hear him laugh a little, or maybe it's just in your head. "And what century is this shit from?" he asks and you almost flinch at his cursing. You've never been a fan of bad words. 

"Well it is rather old, I am aware," you say as you step over Bro's muddy footsteps to follow him. "I simply wish to know if it's fixable. It won't turn itself on anymore." 

You hear him hum a little in thought before he picks up the TV and places it on the floor to take a look at it. He gets out a screwdriver from his pocket and you awkwardly stand there and watch as he takes your TV apart.

After a few minutes, you realize that you should probably say or do something. "I, ah, um," you begin and he turns his head a little to indicate that he's listening. 

"Would you like something to drink while you're working? A snack perhaps?" you offer and watch how the sun reflects from Bro's shades as he turns his head entirely to look up at you. 

The sound of the screwdriver dropping to the floor fills your ears and you freeze up a bit as Bro raises a hand to his shades. You can't explain it exactly, but it's as if everything suddenly moves in slow motion as Bro lifts his shades up a bit to reveal his eyes which are looking straight at you. You're almost certain that your heart skips for the first time in years when you meet his eyes. 

They're.. Orange.


End file.
